All of them sat in a corner of Sashi Master’s living room as it rained heavily outside. In his modest house, the living room was the only place where they could sit together. Twelve of them, including the village headman, Radhamadhav ji.
“Sashi, what’s the radio saying? How long will it rain?” asked Radhamadhav.
“Radio is of no use now, Radhamadhav ji. You can see the weather forecast on your phone nowadays,” replied Sashi.
“On my phone!” – Radhamadhav asked, startled. He took his Nokia 3310 out of his pocket. A phone that’s obscure to the world but not in this small village in Uttar Pradesh.
“This phone will not work.”- Sashi said with a faint smile and added, “You would need an Android phone to see the weather.”
“An android phone, huh? Ok. You have one, no? Tell us how the weather is going to be?” – replied Radhamadhav.
The other men were not talking. They usually didn’t when Radhamadhav was around. As the village headman, he liked to do all the talking to show his assertion. Some of the villagers were scared of him, and didn’t dare speaking over him.
Sashi was not from this village. He came from the city with a government job. He taught maths in the only high school in that village. That was a state-funded school. Villagers had the utmost respect for their teachers, especially for high school teachers. Some called him Sashi ji, some called him Master ji, and Radhamadhav always called him Sashi Master, with no ‘ji’ after Sashi or Master. That’s Radhamadhav’s way of showing dominance.
“The situation is not looking good, Radhamadhav ji. It is going to rain for a long time. Kalbaishakhi is coming. It will be all dark soon,” said Sashi after checking, and re-checking the weather forecast on his new Android phone.
“Hay Allah!”, said Rahim Mia, grief-stricken. He lost most of his crops last year due to heavy rainfall. After taking lot of loans to reproduce the crops that year, he was not in a position to suffer the same loss again. He knew if the storm destroyed his crops, he wouldn’t be able to pay back the loans and would have to kill himself as many farmers did last year. He thought of Rafiq and Karim, two of his very close friends who killed themselves last year as they were unable to pay their loans and broke down crying.
It was the same with other villagers presented in that room. Most of them broke down crying. “How could they fight with mighty rain God!”, they thought. Radhamadhav, who was known for his strong nerves, also looked tense.
Radhamadhav was judicious, an astute politician. He also knew that the way he could handle village politics and defeat his enemies, is not enough for him to combat the rain God, Indra, and he was under his mercy. he finally thought of someone who he thought could pacify the rain God.
Looking at the villagers he asked, “Should we request Bhagwan ji to come to our village and pray?”
Hearing that the villagers’ faces lightened up. Even Rahim Mia, a Muslim, was elated by the proposal.
Bhagwan ji was a saint who lived a few villages away. What’s his real name no one knew. Where he was from, no one knew. There were a lot of mysteries around him but people were devoted to him nonetheless.
There were many stories about Bhagwan ji. Those stories became legends. As Sashi Master was new to the village he wasn’t aware of the existence of this saintly man. Radhamadhav told him one such legend that evening.
One day a man in his mid-forties arrived in that village. He had a long unkempt beard. He looked hungry and unclean. His clothes were shabby. He asked the village headman if he could live there for a few days. The village headman said that there is an old broken temple in one corner of the village. If he wished, he could stay there. He happily accepted. Then for many days, he would live there. Villagers would often see him praying and meditating in the temple. He would hardly talk to anyone. He ate very little. Sometimes a glass of milk, sometimes some fruit. This meager food would arrive from the villagers’ houses. They would take turns in sending the food to the temple where he was living. Villagers would often gossip about that man, who was he? Where did he come from? But nobody dared ask him those questions. Not even the village headman. There was an aura around him, something that forced the villagers to bow down with folding hands every time they saw that man. In reply, he only smiled graciously and did not utter a word.
Years passed like that. And the man grew in popularity. Years of celibacy and penance made him some sort of a Godman. He became lean and his face glowed. People from that village and nearby villages would come to see him and seek his blessings. At that time, he started speaking a little. He would often say, “Words after all are nothing by themselves. They burst into meaning only in the minds they have entered.”
Then the month of Shravana arrived. A cyclone hit Jharkhand and Bihar, the neighboring states of that village. That village was also badly affected. It was storming heavily there. People lost everything; their homes, their cattle, their crops.
The radio said that it would rain for seven days straight. The sky would be cloudy and overcast. There was no way it was going to change. The government asked the villagers who lost their homes to move to nearby shelters. The tall high school building, the only infrastructure of that village which was made of brick and cement became the shelter. Though the government promised the relief goods would soon reach them, there was no food for days. Seeing the condition of the villagers the mysterious man said to one of his devotees that he would fast, pray, and meditate till it stopped raining. He wouldn’t eat anything till then.
Those words spread like fire. Villagers knew it was nothing but suicidal. Even the radio said it would be raining for seven days at least. They went to him even in the heavy rainfall to convince him not to do that. But he wouldn’t budge. He sat there, prayed to the rain God, and mediated. He didn’t eat at all on those days (as the legend says) and on the third day, it stopped raining. The sun came up. It wasn’t cloudy anymore. The clouds were nowhere to be seen. Rather it was a hot sunny day.
And that day our mysterious man became Bhagwan ji. The word Bhagwan in Hindi symbolized God and the mysterious man became a Godman for the villagers. He saved them from hunger and death. He became a hero.
Many years had passed after that. Bhagwan ji then had thousands of followers falling on his feet every day. There was a huge village fair that happened every year in his honor to commemorate the day when he stopped the heavy rainfall. Thousands of people would visit that fair every year to seek his blessings. Some said he was more powerful than the rain God Indra.
All the villagers put money together and made an ashram for him, where he lived for a long time. His devotees would take good care of him. He didn’t have to think about food and shelter anymore, things that he was never concerned of anyway, as per the villagers. Soon he became the most powerful man in that village and the nearby villages. The headman of that village would be often found in his ashram sitting near his legs and pressing his feet.
Some of the politicians of the state would visit him before an election. The actors, actresses, and producers from Mumbai would visit him before their film was released. His name and fame only grew over the years. The villagers would come to him with all sorts of problems. They didn’t need to go the court, or to the police, or to the doctors anymore. Bhagwan ji was an all-in-one solution for them. If the villagers had a fight or dispute over something it was at Bhagwan ji’s ashram where the dispute would be resolved. If someone in the village was sick it was Bhagwan ji’s holy water and prasad that would cure the patient. If the police had arrested one of the villagers who was his devotee, one phone call from Bhagwan ji’s ashram was enough to free that person. Bhagwan ji in the true sense became the Bhagwan of the village.
*****
It was of Bhagwan ji that Rammadhav thought when he heard about the weather forecast. He immediately called for a meeting. Sashi Master’s house was full of people in a few hours and everyone unanimously agreed that it was only Bhagwan ji that could save them in these extreme predicaments.
But it wasn’t easy to get hold of Bhagwan ji. He was a busy man. Rammadhav used all his political contact and influence to get Bhagwan ji into his village. Eventually, Bhagwan ji agreed to come to their village and pray to save the villagers. The villagers were elated. But then, getting Bhagwan ji in their village was also a costly matter.
Bhagwan ji never traveled alone. There are many devotees who accompanied him in his travels to serve him better. Then Bhagwan ji sent a list of ingredients that would be required for the veneration to pacify the rain God. All these would cost a lot of money. Arranging ransportation for Bhagwan Ji and his devotee’s travel and getting the ingredients like sandalwood, milk, grains, pure Ghee, and other things is an expensive affair. Who would pay for it?
The villagers agreed that they would put whatever savings they had into this. Even if that meant after the veneration most of them wouldn’t have a single penny in their pocket. As long as the prayer stopped the losses of the heavy rainfall, they were happy.
Sashi Master was against the idea from the very beginning. He would say spending so much money on this prayer is a foolish thing to do, that the villagers should hold on to their savings rather than waste them on futile things, especially in times of predicament.
Rammadhav was furious, listening to Sashi Master. “Sashi, you are new to this place. Just because you have read a few books, it doesn’t mean you know everything. You are an outsider. Stay out of it.” – Rammadhav said and the villagers agreed.
The next day Rammadhav collected money from all the villagers and left for Bhagwan ji’s ashram to get Bhagwan ji in his village. A few other villagers accompanied him. Normally in these situations, Sashi Master was Rammadhav’s right-hand man. He would always be the first one to do things for the village. But on that occasion, Sashi Master didn’t accompany
Rammadhav, he also refused to donate money for that cause. Rammadhav and a few of the villagers were angry at him but due to time constraints, they ignored the matter and thought of teaching Sashi a lesson later. They left to fetch Bhagwan ji.
Bhagwan ji arrived in that village in the evening. His face was, as always, glowing. The villagers were there in the village temple to receive him. Seeing him entering the temple they all fell at his feet. The devotees of Bhagwan ji who always accompanied him pushed them away and made a way for him. Bhagwan ji didn’t want to waste a single second. He asked if the ingredients were ready. The deputy village headman Rammadhav’s younger brother Laxman responded that the ingredients were ready with folded hands.
Bhagwan ji then sat down and started the oblation fire. He started the Yajna, all his devotees joined him. The villagers were sitting around them praying in their hearts.
At midnight a big storm came. There was a heavy risk of the crops being washed away in that storm. The villagers started praying more intensely. Bhagwan ji and his devotees were busy with Yajna and praying. Bhagwan ji chanted mantras continuously to pacify the rain God but the rain God was in no mood to listen that night.
At that time, Rahim Mia left his home for the mosque to pray. He had full faith in Bhagwan ji. But he wanted to pray to his own God as well. But his route was intercepted by Sashi Master and some other young men. All of them were Sashi Master’s students in high school.
“Where are you heading?”- asked Sashi Master. His face, barely visible in the dark stormy night.
“Going to the mosque.”- Rahim Mia replied hurriedly. He also noticed that all the men including Sashi Master had spades and grubbers in their hands. Terrified, he asked, “Where are you all going, and what are you going to do with the spades?”
“We are going to the field to make a dam so the rainwater can pass by through the aisle without damaging the crops. Join us”, requested Sashi Master. But it almost sounded like an order to Rahim Mia.
Rahim Mia hastily said, “ I can’t join you. I am going to the mosque to pray.”
“Enough people are praying already. If you don’t join us, I will strike you in the head with this spade. You won’t be able to pray again.’’ – said Sashi Master angrily. Then softening his voice he added, “We need more people, Rahim. It’s a massive task. We can still save the crops. Please, join us.” He then put his right hand on Rahim’s shoulder.
Seeing no other options, Rahim decided to join them. They left for the field. It started lightning heavily. Rahim thought the rain God was warning him not to go there. But at that moment he was more scared of Sashi Master and his spade than the rain God.
Throughout the night Sashi Master, along with the boys and Rahim dug holes in different parts of the fields and made a dam around the field so the rainwater could pass through aisles without affecting the crops. All of them in different corners of the field dug like madmen. They wouldn’t allow their golden crops to get drowned. The storm became heavy. As if the wind would take them away. But they didn’t stop. They kept on digging. Rahim prayed constantly in his heart while digging – laaa ilaaha illaaa Anta Subhaanaka innee kuntu minaz zaalimeen – he was chanting the Sura continuously. This sura helped Prophet Younus in saving his life when he got stranded in a whale’s stomach. Rahim hoped that Sura would save the crops too.
At the same time, the Hindu villagers along with Bhagwan Ji were praying in the temple. Even the women and the kids were praying in their homes. No one slept that night.
When the night was almost over the storm wasn’t as heavy anymore. It was only drizzling then. And at one time Sashi realized that rainwater couldn’t drown the crops. The crops weren’t much affected by the rain. The dam that they made throughout the night saved the crops.
Ecstatic, he shouted, “Brothers, all of you can rest now. We have saved the crops. There is nothing to fear now.”
Hearing that, all the tired souls looked around and saw that the crops were still there. Happy, and proud of themselves for what they could achieve, for saving the golden crops they threw their spades away and fell on the ground to take some momentary rest. All of them lying down, breathing heavily, smiling.
At dawn, it stopped raining completely. The golden sun slowly rose from the East. Rammadhav and other villagers ran towards the field. They saw the crops weren’t drowned by the heavy rainfall. They shouted, “The crops were saved, Bhagwan ji, saved the crops, Bhagwan ji saved the crops.”
“Jai Shree Raam, Jai Bhagwan ji”
“Jai Shree Raam, Jai Bhagwan ji”
“Jai Shree Raam, Jai Bhagwan ji…”
They kept on shouting. Bhagwan ji’s eyes were closed as if he was in deep sleep. Then he opened his eyes, red from sleeplessness. He pointed his index finger to the sky and said, “All credit goes to him, I am just the medium.” He closed his eyes again and said, “Jai Shree Raam.”
“Jai Shree Raam” – the villagers repeated and shouted after him.
Rahim limped back to his home, tired of the night’s heavy work but with a smile on his face, thanking God that they could save the crops. He would be able to pay back the loans now.
